


as easy as breathing in

by JohnnysFrenchPress (CoffeeColoredMornings)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Body Worship, Creampie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeColoredMornings/pseuds/JohnnysFrenchPress
Summary: Taeyong is gilded in gold and rose, skin flushed and gleaming with the lightest layer of sweat. His limbs are lax, arms laying near his head, delicate wrist facing outwards toward the room, towards Johnny.Johnny sits between his legs, splayed wide, and presses firmly into Taeyong’s waist. He spreads his fingers: pinkies curl around, fingertips cresting the lowest rib, and thumbs meeting in the middle of Taeyong’s stomach. The muscles go taut as Johnny rubs small circle with his thumbs, then release into a tender softness.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 25
Kudos: 197





	as easy as breathing in

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Margaret Atwood’s ['Variation on the Word Sleep'](https://poets.org/poem/variation-word-sleep)
> 
> Welp…here we are, a little later than intended. Really just want to give out shout out to the freckle on Taeyong’s lip for being the true MVP.
> 
> Also, Happy Birthday to our precious, persevering leader~! I hope the world returns all the happiness and goodwill you’ve put into it tenfold.
> 
> \- Coffee

The apartment is empty and quiet—a stolen moment in the weeks after their last comeback. Light spills in from Taeyong’s window, a dull sepia that mixes with the single lit lamp (a funky thing comprised of thin wire branches and delicate lights) in the room.

Taeyong is gilded in gold and rose, skin flushed and gleaming with the lightest layer of sweat. His limbs are lax, arms laying near his head, delicate wrist facing outwards toward the room, towards Johnny.

Johnny sits between his legs, splayed wide, and presses firmly into Taeyong’s waist. He spreads his fingers: pinkies curl around, fingertips cresting the lowest rib, and thumbs meeting in the middle of Taeyong’s stomach. The muscles go taut as Johnny rubs small circle with his thumbs, then release into a tender softness.

When Johnny moves his hands down and together, just shy of Taeyong’s need, Taeyong whines—delicate and breathy and not quite desperate enough to ask for attention, not yet.

“Beautiful,” Johnny murmurs, palms smoothing a path down the junction of Taeyong’s legs, curving around his cock, flushed a yearning pink and leaking at the tip. “You’re so beautiful, Taeyong.”

“Johnny.” Taeyong’s eyes are wide and dark, and there’s already a shine of feeling overwhelmed in the collection of tears kept just at bay.

Johnny smiles, something soft and secret, and captures Taeyong’s lips. They’re already kiss swollen, peach chapstick all but smeared off but Johnny can still taste the artificial sweetness as he pushes past his lips, tongue tracing over the roof of his mouth.

Taeyong’s moans taste sweeter, Johnny thinks, and sucks lightly on Taeyong’s tongue so he can have more. He basks in the clutch of Taeyong’s hands in his hair, on the nape of his neck, of the gentle rutting of the younger’s full cock against his stomach.

“So sweet,” Johnny whispers against parted lips, swallowing down the answering whines like they’re ambrosia, something to feed a greater part of him than just his body alone. “You’re so good, baby.”

“Johnny,” Taeyong mewls, and there it is—the building wave of desperation in his tone, evidenced in the arch of his back, the rhythmic _shove-shove-shove_ of his hips searching for friction.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Johnny assures. He places a light kiss on the freckle at the corner of Taeyong’s mouth. “So fucking gorgeous baby, you know that?”

Johnny follows the sharp cut of Taeyong’s jaw with his lips, brief passovers of pressure until he reaches the bared skin of Taeyong’s neck. He sucks a sharp mark on the sensitive skin just behind Taeyong’s ear, all heat followed by the prick of teeth before Johnny soothes the pain away with a swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck,” Taeyong groans, and Johnny feels the vibration of the sentiment on his lips where they’re pressed against the younger’s throat, marking a ring of burgundy bruises around his Adam’s apple. “I—I need, _Johnny, I need_ …”

Johnny pulls back, ignoring Taeyong’s whimper. “What?” He asks, thumbing Taeyong’s lower lip. “What do you want?”

“You,” Taeyong breathes, tongue flashing in a quick flick over the pad of Johnny’s thumb, “in me. I want you in me.”

Ignoring the interested twitch of his own cock, Johnny eyes the bottle of lube sitting ready and waiting on Taeyong’s bedside table, but doesn’t reach for it.

“I’ll get there, Yongie,” Johnny says, thumbing across spit slick lips and over the arch of Taeyong’s cheekbones. He ducks down, quick enough to bite and pull Taeyong’s lower lip, whispering his next words in Taeyong’s open mouth, “I just want to take my time with you.”

Taeyong’s breath hitches; Johnny follows the movement with open-mouthed kisses down to pebbled nipples. He pauses, breath fanning heat across a pink bud and watches as it tightens and hardens, riding the swell of each panting breath of air from Taeyong.

There’s a deliberate pause between them, a game of waiting when Johnny tries to meet Taeyong’s gaze. It’s only when Taeyong pulls his eyes from the ceiling and stares down, pupils blown wide, that Johnny flicks at his nipple with a pointed tongue then sucks on it, hard and hot.

“So fucking brilliant, baby,” Johnny says, pressing the words into Taeyong’s skin. He nibbles across Taeyong’s chest, arched in supplication, and takes the offering of his neglected nipple; his fingers agitate the right nipple, wet and red and swollen. “You know that, baby? You’re so beautiful, so powerful.”

Taeyong keens, high and loud, eyes pinched shut and mouth open to let out constricted whines. Johnny pulls back, plucking at the swollen buds then soothing over in small, steady rolls. “Open your eyes baby, let me see you.”

And Johnny does want to see him. He wants to see past the blush highlighting his cheeks and chest, wants to see past the sweat matted hair at his temples; Johnny wants to see the pleasure, and the need, and the moment when the words Johnny speaks between them sinks into Taeyong, becomes something truer than his own physical touch.

“You’re so good baby, so perfect. Open your eyes, Yong, let me see you. Let me hear you.” Johnny ghosts his lips down Taeyong’s neck and bites benedictions into collarbones until the moans come freely, the sounds no longer choked back but rise deep and aching.

Muscles tremble beneath Johnny’s hand, the stutter quick ballooning of Taeyong’s ribs felt against his own chest. And when he presses his mouth to Taeyong’s pulse, he can feel the fervent thud of his heart against his tongue.

“Johnny,” his name is spoken wetly, thick on Taeyong’s tongue. “Fuck me, please, _please_.” Tears collect along Taeyong’s lash line and on the last ‘ _please_ ’ they streak across his temples, soaking into sweat-damp hair.

“Stay with me, Yongie. I’ll fuck you, baby—just let me have this, let _yourself_ have this, yeah?”

Taeyong whines and Johnny sets his teeth into the hollow of his stomach, just below his ribcage. “Yeah, Taeyong?”

“Yeah, yes, please,” Taeyong says, trembling fingers brushing away Johnny’s fringe. “J-just don’t stop, then.”

Johnny’s answering grin is perhaps too sharp for the moment, but the kiss he presses into the thin skin of Taeyong’s inner wrist is gentle, attentive. “Never.”

The lick to Taeyong’s cock comes unexpectedly; Johnny shuffles down and licks from base to tip, pressure insistent against the thick vein on the underside of Taeyong’s dick. The large puddle of precome collecting on Taeyong’s stomach is a pleasant surprise, as is the next pearl of precome that beads out when Johnny sucks on his frenulum.

“So wet,” Johnny murmurs, the words there for himself but spoken loud enough for Taeyong to hear. Taeyong’s answering whine is cut off, breaking into a full chested groan as Johnny sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, tonguing his slit hoping for more. Taeyong delivers with a buck of his hips and Johnny tastes precome, bitter and salty on the tip of his tongue. 

Johnny pulls back to mouth, “So good, so fucking delicious, baby,” into the crease of the younger’s thighs. He keeps going lower, hands tucked under Taeyong’s knees to pull him wide so he can fit more firmly between his legs.

The pale skin of Taeyong’s inner thighs gives way to red, then purple. Johnny sucks and bites until he finds comfort that the bruising will give way to blue. Taeyong’s voice is cracked on each moan, hands scrambling across Johnny’s scalp and pulling bursting stars in the bedsheets.

“Fuck, fuck, Johnny. I can’t—I can’t,” Taeyong pants, chest heaving.

Johnny smirks against the bottom curve of Taeyong’s ass. He nips the skin before him. “I got you, Yong.”

There is no hesitation when Johnny pulls his asscheeks apart. Taeyong’s asshole is a tight furl of dusky rose and Johnny licks a firm stripe over the puckered entrance. Taeyong yelps, shattered and sharp, body jerking away from the touch before quickly sinking back down, hips bowing back for more.

“God, you’re so fucking…” Johnny groans, suctioning his lips back over Taeyong’s twitching hole. He nips at the rim, tongue mapping tight circles until he feels the muscle loosen enough for him to slip in.

Taeyong’s is tight, an inferno inside. Johnny grips the cut of Taeyong’s hipbones, knows the promise of bruising in his strength, and pulls the younger man further into him, further onto his tongue.

The room is indigo and silver, the air heavy with body heat, and cracked through with Taeyong’s frantic gasps. One of Johnny’s hands has curled around Taeyong’s cock, slow strokes to thumb the tip of his head back down to his base, where he can just cup Taeyong’s balls and stroke over the sac before twisting back up.

Johnny’s thrusts his tongue in deep, indulging in the taste of Taeyong sitting thick and musky on his palate. He pulls back just enough to intersperse measured kisses to Taeyong’s spit slick hole—Johnny’s own face a mess of saliva.

A warbling mewl brings him back to the boy before him. Johnny pulls back further, allows his other hand to slide from hipbone to the wet heat between Taeyong’s cheeks.

Taeyong’s eyes are black and blown wide, a steady stream of tears pricking at the corner and trailing down in messy streaks. Johnny nudges a finger against Taeyong’s hole. The younger hiccups silently, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes back against the finger.

“In,” Taeyong moans, “in, in, in. _Fuck_!”

Johnny sinks down to the last knuckle of his middle finger, his spit doing just enough to ease the way. He feels the flutter of muscles, watches the concave of Taeyong’s stomach expand as he moves in careful nudges. He’s just as quick to reach for the lube and coat a second finger when Taeyong’s whines raise in pitch, lithe hips wriggling in a steady rocking motion.

“That feel good?”

“Mhmm,” Taeyong sighs, hands gripping the sheets by his head.

Removing his hand from Taeyong’s cock, Johnny pauses just long enough to grab one of the pillows at the head of Taeyong’s bed. “Up,” he commands, tapping Taeyong’s side with a hand sticky with precome and placing the pillow underneath his hips.

Twisting his two fingers in deeper, he spits into his hand and takes Taeyong’s cock again, grip firmer but pace no less excruciating than before.

“Fucking look at you, baby,” Johnny groans, spreading his fingers apart and twisting his wrist on the upstroke over Taeyong’s leaking cock.

Taeyong is a sight to behold—body supine and open, flushed pink, bathed in fading blue light and shadows. His eyes fight to stay open, fluttering on each particularly rough thrust in from Johnny’s fingers. And his mouth, God his mouth, Johnny thinks, plump and pink and open on neverending moans.

Johnny slips a third finger in and thinks God outdid himself when creating Lee Taeyong.

A particular curl of his fingers has Taeyong repeating a hoarse mantra of ‘ _there, there, there_ ’, and Johnny leans in, rubbing the pads of his fingertips over Taeyong’s prostate. His thumb strokes feather-light over Taeyong’s pernium, and Taeyong shudders.

When Johnny digs his thumb into his pernium, rubbing with purpose at a specific spot, Taeyong wails. It’s an explosion of activity, like watching solar flares, Taeyong in his radiance twitching and jerking, lean muscle tensing and relaxing in tandem with the endless babble spilling past parted lips.

“Stop, stop,” Taeyong cries, curling up against the press of Johnny’s body.

Johnny stills immediately—he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t want movement too jarring as Taeyong trembles in the circle of his form. Slowly, he removes his hand from Taeyong’s cock, ignoring its angry twitch of neglect and wrapping his arms around Taeyong’s heaving shoulders.

“Taeyong, are you okay?”

It takes a moment for Taeyong to respond, voice run through with gravel when he does. “I-I’m okay. Just—that was a lot, I was going to come.”

Johnny nods and rubs a gentle back-and-forth over Taeyong’s arm. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to come now?”

Taeyong looks up at Johnny, eyes large and glinting something delicate and vulnerable.

“We can move on if you want to. Or, you can come now and I can make you come again later. Whatever you want, baby.”

Taeyong takes a deep breath then turns to press his lips to Johnny’s shoulder. “Now,” he says, brushing the words against Johnny’s skin. “Make me come now, then make me come again later.”

Stealing a quick kiss, Johnny gentles Taeyong back down. He sets quickly back to work, twisting his fingers deep and thrumming against Taeyong’s prostate; gripping Taeyong’s cock—now flushed a dark, desperate red—Johnny quickens his pace, twisting just at the head on every stroke up.

Lightning quick, Taeyong is taut like a bowstring—pulling, pulling, pulling with a fine tremble. Johnny sets his thumb back against his pernium and it only takes a few dizzying circles before Taeyong is shaking apart. Moans and shouts fight their way out of his throat, choking him on the noise as he releases in thick, white ropes. Come lands in hot stripes against Taeyong’s stomach and chest, even going so far as to hit the bottom of his neck.

Johnny moans with Taeyong, easing his movements as the younger comes down. He slips his fingers out amidst the residual quakes. Taeyong whimpers, soft and just shy of wounded. His breaths puff rapid-fire, and Johnny finds himself momentarily hypnotized watching his redden nipples rise and fall.

Without thought, he rubs a few tight circles against Taeyong’s right nipple, smearing a glisten of come against the sore skin and bringing a hard-edged mewl from Taeyong. Johnny ducks down, licking over the nipple and mess of come.

“Perfect,” Johnny whispers, pressing kisses and words of affirmation in a staggering pattern across Taeyong’s chest, up his neck, and over his chin until he captures his lips, pulling the lower one into his mouth with an obscene suck.

Between their messy press of lips, there’s a fumble of limbs. Johnny hears the sharp _snick_ of the lube opening. Johnny groans, deep and guttural, when Taeyong grabs his long since neglected cock. Johnny sucks on Taeyong’s tongue with less finesse than he’d like, basking in the younger’s sure grips as he coats his thick length with lube.

“So big,” Taeyong breathes, bringing Johnny’s pouty bottom lip into his mouth. “So fucking big, I want you inside me. I _need_ you inside me, Johnny.”

“Fuck,” Johnny grunts, pulling back, easing Taeyong’s hand off his cock. “Fuck, Yong, yes.”

It doesn’t take more than a quick moment for Johnny to align himself with Taeyong’s hole. He pushes Taeyong’s legs back, waiting until Taeyong grabs the back of his own knees, and Johnny can see his hole flutter and glisten with leftover spit and lube.

Johnny presses in slow. A smothered groan builds up in his chest as he presses into tight heat, lube slicking the way in. Taeyong throws his head back as Johnny slides further in, mouth open on a silent gasp, eyes closed and brows furrowed focusing on the blunt, heavyweight of Johnny’s thick cock sinking in deeper.

They both still when Johnny bottoms out. Panting breaths hitting the air between them. Johnny waits until he sees the obsidian glint of Taeyong’s eyes, wet once more with tears waiting to be shed, before easing back out halfway. He shoves back in, controlled, and just on the right side of rough.

Taeyong’s moan is sonorous and Johnny marvels at the arch of his back, the scrabbling of Taeyong’s fingers against Johnny’s forearms and biceps.

Johnny builds a steady rhythm, pacing himself to the staccato moans pushing past pink lips. He skirts past Taeyong’s prostate, never hitting it dead on, wanting to build the pleasure—watch it seep into Taeyong’s core and linger in every minuscule twitch of muscle.

“ _Ahha_ ,” Taeyong gasps, hands trying—albeit weakly—to get at his own straining cock, full once more and bouncing against his stomach with each of Johnny’s thrusts. “Jo-John _ny_.”

“You close baby?”

“Yeah, _fuck, yeah_.”

Without stilling his hips, Johnny slowly bends over, guiding Taeyong’s legs further apart. The new angle allows him to press in closer, pounding Taeyong’s prostate on each thrust in and trapping his cock between their stomach.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Taeyong cries against his mouth, their lips pressed together less so to kiss but just to gain another point of connection.

Johnny leans in further, working his hips hard and deep as Taeyong’s ruts against his abs.

“So fucking beautiful baby,” Johnny says, pressing fever-quick kisses to Taeyong’s mouth, along his jaw and pulse point, “so gorgeous. Intelligent. Capable.” He accompanies each word of praise with a hard, deliberate thrust to Taeyong’s prostate, feels the fluttering of Taeyong’s rim against the base of his cock, the tightening of his walls. “You know that right? You know you’re powerful, so good, so perfect for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, Johnny!” Taeyong sobs, tears tracking down his cheeks and temples. “I’m so close, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop. Fuck, fucking _ruin me_. _Oh my God!_ ”

Johnny slows his pace, just enough to ease the edge in Taeyong. The younger keens, high and piercing and Johnny shushes him, smoothing a hand down his neck, over his heart.

“Shh, baby, I got you. I got you,” Johnny says, voice deep and husky. He’s rocking into Taeyong now, short thrusts and tight figure-eight grinds of his hips. “I’m not going to ruin you, Yongie. I’m going to build you up.” Johnny hits Taeyong’s prostate, swallows his moan. “You’re a fucking fire, baby, I never want to ruin you or put you out. I’m going to build you up, a small flame until you flare like the fucking sun.” Johnny thrusts in deeper, rougher, targeted grace. Taeyong reaches for his hand with a whine and Johnny intertwines their fingers, pulls their hand close to his face so he can lay kisses against each of Taeyong’s knuckles. “You’re the damned sun, Taeyong.”

It’s an undeniable conviction of Johnny’s. Taeyong is the sun and he is helpless in his orbit. He pulls back just far enough to build back to his quick pace, thrusts deep and just shy of too aggressive. He sneaks a hand between them, rubbing at the soaked head of Taeyong’s cock. 

Taeyong is the fucking sun, something bright and warm, unaware of his own magnitude, his own power and his effect on others, and just as necessary. He is illuminating as he arches his back, throat bare for the taking, and blazes through another orgasm, scream pushing through clenched teeth.

Johnny fucks him through it, happy in his orbit, happy in his burning as Taeyong comes down once more. He pauses, letting Taeyong catch his breath.

Taeyong is a painting of the obscene—brushed in come, sweat, salvia, and colored in blooms of red and purple against a backdrop of golden skin.

“Don’t pull out,” Taeyong murmurs as he feels Johnny shifting. His eyes are still closed, breath not quite caught. “I want you to come in me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, please. I want you to come in me.” Taeyong’s eyes flutter open, earnest, and sated in the heavy drooping of his eyelids. “I want your come, Johnny.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Johnny groans, hands grasping at Taeyong’s hips in helplessness. “Fuck. Can I turn you over?”

Taeyong hums his assent and Johnny pulls out long enough to flip Taeyong over.

Limbs shaking, Taeyong settles on his knees, elbows firmly planted in the mattress, and cheek smushed against his pillow. Johnny slides back in, feels Taeyong twitch from oversensitivity as he strokes a firm line down the arch of his spine.

“Ready?”

“Yes, _please_ ,” Taeyong whimpers, rocking back on his own volition.

It’s all the encouragement Johnny needs to dive back into a brutal pace, chasing his own pleasure in the tight heat of Taeyong’s body. He plants ardent kisses along Taeyong’s shoulders, skipping along each vertebra with lips and fingertips.

Johnny thrusts into him without mercy for the sake of being merciful, trying to find his end quickly. Taeyong can’t help the broken stream of whines on each thrust in—even with Johnny actively avoiding his prostate—the way it drags his oversensitive and softening cock against the cotton of his duvet.

Taeyong’s rim clenches around him and Johnny can’t help the growl the rips from his throat. He’s rocking in deep and sloppy, so close to the edge.

“Johnny, please” Taeyong cries, constants clipped and grating against his throat. “Please, come for me, baby, _please_.”

Taeyong clenches around him a couple more times, shrill whines accompanying the rocking of his hips as he coaxes Johnny closer to completion. Johnny feels his balls tighten, the building elasticity of pleasure in his gut tightens and he sweeps down, shoving in deep and claiming Taeyong’s lip in a sloppy kiss as he finally comes.

There’s no room for air between them as Johnny comes down. Their lips stay connected in a slippery brush of motion. Slowly, so slowly, does Johnny ease out. His hands rest on Taeyong’s sides—feels his ribs expanding with each greedy lungful of breath in—and he lowers him fully to the bed.

Taeyong extends fully, limbs still coursing with aftershocks, hair a bluegreen sweep against the white pillowcase.

Johnny claims the open space in front of him, fingers careful and delicate as they sweep Taeyong’s hair back from his flushed face, still half pressed into the pillow.

“M’ dead,” Taeyong mumbles, eyes drifting open to half-mast. There’s a dazed sheen to them, one comprised of satisfaction and love.

“No,” Johnny says around a small smile. He pulls closer, keeping his touches tame and peaceful. “You’re alive.”

“I am?” Taeyong slowly rolls onto his side and curls closer into Johnny’s embrace.

“Mhm.” Johnny eases in closer, arm sweeping up to place his hand over Taeyong’s heart.

Taeyong hisses at the movement and Johnny jerks back, eyes flicking over the boy in front of him for a sign of injury. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

“No,” Taeyong says, voice tight. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” Johnny asks, but it’s a moot question when he gazes lower, sees Taeyong’s cock resting hard against his marked-up thighs.

“Holy shit, Yong. Again?”

Taeyong whines and buries his face fully in the pillow, just a smear of bluegreen hair and pale neck. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not, baby, I’m not. I’m—well, fuck, I’m impressed.”

Dark eyes peek out at him through Taeyong’s bangs. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah. Do you,” Johnny pauses, eyes stuck to the small pearl of precome collecting at the tip of Taeyong’s cock. “Do you want to come again?”

Taeyong is silent, hands fidgeting where they rest between them. Johnny grabs the restless appendages in his own, fingers curling to encase them and bring them to his chest.

“Taeyong.” Johnny waits until Taeyong looks at him and kees his gaze. “Do you want to come again? We don’t have to if you don’t want to—there’s no pressure to do anything. But, if you want to come again, that’s okay, too. I’ll take care of you, baby—whatever you want.”

The sheets crinkle between them as Taeyong moves in closers, fingers pressing light indents into Johnny’s chest. “I want to come again,” Taeyong whispers, fingertips ghosting around Johnny’s nipples.

Johnny shudders, both at the words and the arousing touch of Taeyong teasing at his nipples. “I’ve got you.”

He caresses Taeyong’s side, motion slow across Taeyong’s heated skin, still slick with a fine layer of sweat. Curving his palm in towards Taeyong’s stomach, Johnny takes firm hold of his cock and begins stroking him with sure movements.

Taeyong sobs lightly. Johnny nudges his lips against Taeyong’s, no doubt as sore and kiss swollen as his own, but he’s determined to taste every sound he can pull from the younger and he jerks him to completion.

Taeyong’s third orgasm comes silently; he rips himself from Johnny’s lips, head thrown back in a silent scream, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes apart. The seams of his being seem unraveled as he sinks back into the mattress and the heat of Johnny’s body.

“You really are perfect, you know that?”

“M’ no’,” Taeyong says, barely able to push the words past numb lips.

“Yes, you are. You’re perfect, strong, so fucking beautiful,” Johnny says, pressing a small kiss to Taeyong’s forehead. “There’s no one or nothing I love more than you.”

This earns Johnny a sleepy smile, bow lips curving just enough to form the words, “I love you, too.”

The sky is fully dark as Johnny pats and soothes the last trembles from Taeyong. He leaves with reassurances of his return to retrieve a couple of water bottles from the fridge and a towel dampened with warm water to clean the greater part of their mess.

It’s a mystery—truly a story of tangled limbs and apologies pressed against skin—how they change the sheets. But they tumble down wrapped around each other into clean sheets smelling of gardenia.

Satisfaction and love weigh bone-deep, flavoring marrow, and the intangible pieces of them that Johnny can’t fully reach. He pulls Taeyong in closer, feels the puffs of each breath against his lips—a steady thrum just on the verge of sleep.

Johnny steals one last kiss, watching a small smile curve Taeyong’s lips. Sleep encroaches heavily; settling against his pillow, Taeyong tucked against his chest, Johnny matches the pacing of their breaths.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jhnys_coffee)   
>  [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/jhnys_coffee)


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